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After close to two years, L’il Sis has decided to go out and live on her own again. She has found an apartment that she likes and one that will accept pets. So The Pig is packing up her wardrobe, her toys, her bed, and saying farewell to all the ducks, squirrels and chipmunks that frequent my deck and yard.

I am crushed. Oh, I’m sad that L’il Sis is moving but THE PIG is leaving!! Who will make me laugh? Crazy D is good for doing stupid things, flirting with death, and providing material for great cocktail party stories, but it’s The Pig that can be counted on for true, belly laugh humour. Who will be here to adore me, follow me around like a faithful servant, rave about my cooking? Who will be here to drag me through bushes and over ravine hills in pursuit of bunnies/rabbit stew? I will have no napping companion to make white noise ( the sound of a freight train) to lull me to sleep. Her sad, woebegone face will not adorn the couch, lifted high on the tower of pillows she has erected, nobody to greet me with a lopsided toothy smile when I return from doing errands (the toothier the grin, the more likely she has ransacked the garbage).

She has crapped and peed on my carpets, scratched my cupboards to smithereens while attempting to reach the elusive loaf of bread or piece of chicken at the back of the counter, killed the grass with pee at the side of the house when the Polar Vortex kept her from walking any further in the cold. Her toys lie strewn about the house, threatening to maim the unsuspecting human trying to navigate the halls in the dark. I don’t need an alarm clock since she lets me know all the significant times during the day: lunch time (also known as Soup O’clock), after soup pee time, nap time (she beats me to her settee before I get to my room) mid-afternoon snack time,and dinner time (she gets antsy around 4:30, is insistent by 5, takes up her post beside her bowl by 5:03).

How will I plan my day without The Pig? Who will step into her place as The Muse for my writing? I fear that L’il Sis doesn’t quite understand how this change will affect The Pig. I worry that she expects me to be providing a ‘Meals On Wheels’ service, delivering Grandma’s homemade chicken soup every day for The Pig’s dining pleasure. And driving over to take her for walks. As if I have no life! Well, I don’t, but that is hardly the point. This begins to sound like another custody battle. We lost Mr. Pants when Crazy D split up with his girlfriend and she kept the puppy. And Other Brother (Second Son) is moving away with his new dog. Too many puppies, too much loss! How is a Grandma to stand it?

The only ray of hope is that the neighbours, away in the States for part of the summer, may bring back a new puppy so Jewel can start training it before she gets too old. I’m sure I can work with that!

I’m sure L’il Sis will allow me visitation rights to The Pig but it will be different. I never imagined I’d become so attached to an ornery, stubborn, willful, manipulative, destructive  hound. But there you are. I guess this proves that love is, after all, blind.

Oh, Piggy…I was never very good at breakups!

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